Wait a second…where was I?

I loved the psychology research paper that was recently published entitled “Walking through doorways causes forgetting: Situation models and experienced space.” The paper explains why when we got from one room to another we often forget what we were attempting to do. The research is seven pages long and very scholarly in tone and all of us whether we’ve read it or not can chime in with a collective “hello, duh!”

I’ve been doing that for years.

What I’m now interested in is a research paper that explains why at age 47 I’ve began naming all three children in order of birth whenever I attempt to name only one. For example, I’m looking at Dexter, the youngest, pointing at him even, but I will still address him as “Jessica-Logan-Dexter” as if his first name was actually a conglomeration of his and his siblings.

My grandmother did the same thing. She could point to one of us grandkids, start naming her own children, then head straight into the “grands” in birth order. I would laugh and laugh. Either there is some scientific explanation for this or God indeed has a sense of humor and whatever we mock our elders for in our carefree teenager years, we’re doomed to repeat as we, ourselves age.

I have a girlfriend who has a theory about closets and clothes. It is her much esteemed hypothesis that the wooden walls, floor and door in her clothes closet actually serves as a dehumidifier. That in fact the mere action of its dehumidification is so strong that it extracts any moisture from her clothes and leaves them slightly smaller each time she hangs them up.

Two points can be gathered from this theory. First, she is maybe a size two or four in clothing so I don’t really feel too bad if her clothes shrink a little. Secondly, I think she might be a “closet” messy and by not hanging her clothes up she somehow avoids any perceived shrinkage.

My personal favorite and latest theory is that hearing is a learned trait based upon our likes and dislikes. Fez has this annoying little whine he does when he wants out but knows that the last 12 times he “asked” to go out over the past hour might be just this side of pushing it too far. His whine is breathy and high pitched. It drives me up the wall. I hate the whine more than I dislike stopping whatever I’m doing to let him out. The twins on the other hand have developed the art of selective hearing and this sound no longer even registers. It could be a tonal thing, but that wouldn’t account for their inability to hear the dryer or dishwasher shutting off.

Oh wait…I just remembered. They would have had to walk through a couple of doorways to get to the dog or appliances. They must have simply forgot.


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